My New Enemy

I have an new enemy.

Before I introduce him to you, I must set the scene.  I like to grow flowers.  

With all of the crazy heat we have had lately, my flowers were looking pretty neglected.  The garden was in dire need of weeding and my flowers just needed some TLC.  I decided to go out first thing this morning and work.  I thought the heat wouldn't be as bad at 8:00 in the morning.  I was wrong.  It's like a sauna out there!  So, I was covered in sweat, dirt, and looking mighty fine with my little gardening gloves on.  /sarcasm/

This was the scene of the attack:

The bottom of this rose was pretty weedy and some rocks had fallen down around the roots.  I stuck my hands down and started raking the rocks toward me.  Then he attacked.

I screamed so loud I bet my neighbors thought I had been shot.  I also proceeded in jumping around my front yard, shaking my hands and yelling awful things.  The little beast staged his attack on my knee and then ran away like a little coward.  OOOOOOOO!!!!  He wins again.

This little guy lives in my garden.  We have run-ins from time to time because he likes to live around the bottoms of my flowers.  It's cool there and I unknowingly give him a bath everyday when I water them.   I picture him laughing as I do this.  Then, when I try to pull weeds he attacks every time.  I know it is coming, I know he isn't really going to hurt me,  but every time he scares the living daylight out of me!

Now, I understand that I am invading him on his "turf."  We should both co-exist and get along.  Kumbaya and all of that.  But a few months ago, he crossed a line where there is no going back.

Warning:  this story could be TMI for some people.  If you are one that usually feels that way, you should probably stop reading now.  See ya next time!

Still here?  Ok........ here we go.

I woke up one spring morning, yawned, and made my usual trek to the bathroom to "ahem" relive myself.  I stumble inside the bathroom with my eyes half open (I am NOT a morning person and do not function until I have a shot of caffeine.)  Picture a zombie Lori.  I sat down and "ahemed."  As I was "aheming," I opened my eyes, and sitting on the bathroom floor in front of me and starring at me with his beady little eyes was that dang toad.

You can't make this stuff up, peeps.

I screamed, did my little angry dance (half-naked), and Bart flew into the bathroom thinking I was hurt.  It was a moment neither of us like to remember.  Ha ha.  Bart took him back outside and released him.  (I'm now thinking we should have taken him farther away.)   To this day we still can't figure out how the little creep got inside, made it down the hallway, and then staked out my bathroom.  See what I mean?  This guy means war.